


Forget The Rainbow, Taste The Whole Damn Universe

by Iamalsohere



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angel Wings, M/M, Oral Sex, Vibrators, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 17:26:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15801201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iamalsohere/pseuds/Iamalsohere
Summary: Dave Strider's dating life gets a little more complicated when his boyfriend dies and comes back to the mortal realm as an angel with blue-tinted skin and the energy of a distant star running through his veins.





	Forget The Rainbow, Taste The Whole Damn Universe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TwinStars (Spathiphyllum)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spathiphyllum/gifts).



> Here's my Drone Season gift for Anathema/Flexiloquent! You gave me a lot of freedom, so I went a little crazy. I hope you enjoy it!

Dating John has gotten slightly more complicated after his death. Not impossible or anything, no, just _complicated_. You have to keep more secrets from all your friends and the relationship now involves a lot of schedule conflicts and hurriedly shoving John into a closet if someone turns up at your room unexpectedly, and every so often you have to tell your friend that no thanks you don't want to be set up with some guy from her gravitational physics class even if he _is_ a dreamboat and likes all the same rappers as you. Complicated. Of course, that sort of stuff just comes with the territory. Angels are _bound_ to be more complex than humans, right?

Yeah… Angels… Turns out they’re a thing that exist and you’re dating one.

It was a bit anticlimactic finding out about their existence. John didn’t descend from the clouds on a golden staircase with a fanfare of trumpets playing in the background. No, all that had happened was you’d gotten back to your dorm room one day and found him sitting on your bed reading a comic book. And he’d looked up at you with those baby blues of his and grinned to reveal the chipped incisor that was so fucking familiar it was like a sucker punch to your gut. And you’d fainted away onto the carpet. Then when you came to, you were lying on your bed looking up at the face of the boy you’d loved since you was ten and who was _definitely_ dead according to about five doctors and a large incinerator.

So clearly all of it was a dream. And you had to make out with John before you woke up and he vanished and you were left alone and miserable again. Luckily, Dream-John had been very responsive and more than happy to make out and slip his eager little fingers up your shirt to take things further. Then after you’d had sex about three times, you figured out that all this probably wasn’t a dream and you were just losing your mind. The grief had finally gotten to you. You weren’t in your dorm room and were actually crying and jacking off in a supermarket aisle, clutching a watermelon and insisting it was your dead boyfriend. And soon Rose would turn up and have to help you into home or slap some sense into you or both.

But, as it turned out, your brain was perfectly fine and you were wide awake. John was still dead. He was just paying a visit to the mortal coil to do some “important work” as he’d put it.

After a long night of convincing you that no you weren’t losing your mind, you’d ended up sitting on the edge of the bed and rested your face in your hands as you felt your entire life philosophy come crshing down around your ears. It’s kind of difficult to go back about your business after shit like this happens. but dammit, you were a _Strider_ and you weren’t a _pussy_ so you’d sat up and put your game face on and said very casually, “So… Angels, huh?”

“Yup.” John was crosslegged on the mattress, still naked and holding a pillow on his lap.

“So does this mean…” You swallowed. “Which afterlife is real? Should I start going to church or something? Or should I make my own church? Welcome to the Strider congergation, today’s service will be paying respect to the wonder that is my dick. This is a dick that has been blessed by the mouth of a celestial being, so we have had it embossed in gold and framed for us all to worship.”

John had laughed and shook his head, running a hand through his curly hair. “I won’t stop you from founding the dick church, if you want. But no, it’s more complicated than that. It’s like…” He bit his lip and tried to think. “It’s more like… It’s like _this_ world is just _one_ aspect of existence, just one timeline I guess, but at the same time there are multiple concurrent timelines that exist alongside our own, all as equal and valid as this one. Almost sewn together into a big… Clump… Uh…” He frowned and held his hands in front of him, fingers wiggling in the air. “And then deities are more like guides, I guess? They exist completely outside of all of this… Like, they’re in a different… As if we’re just characters in a shitty comic or something, deities exist outside of _our_ storyline but still _within_ the comic interacting with it and… Uh…” He scowled. “I don’t actually think I can explain it to your mortal brain. It messed me up when I first got there.”

“Are you saying my brain isn’t good enough to understand your timey-wimey afterlife bullshit, John? Is that what you’re telling me right now?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. It’s the multiverse theory, Dave, it’s really complicated. You don’t know shit about the multiverse. You’re studying palaeontology.”

“Dead animals are basically the same as the multiverse theory, they both involve atoms and they’re both rad as fuck.”

“Point taken. But it’s still complicated. Hang on, I might need to draw some diagrams to explain…”

You rubbed a hand over you face and looked askance at your dead boyfriend. He definitely didn’t _look_ dead at that point. In fact, John looked pretty much the same as ever: the same half-Indonesian, half-Nigerian guy with the puff of dark hair and bright blue eyes, all soft and round and beautiful with the overbite and the squashed nose. Just the same as he looked before he’d gone and gotten himself turned into mincemeat beneath the wheels of that truck. And yeah, when John was alive he’d never done any sort of religious stuff but now here he was apparently turned into an angel for whatever reason. Damn… Things were so _weird_ now.

John reached forward and pulled you towards him, pressing kisses to your shoulder. “Stop thinking so much,” he said with a smile. “I _was_ gone and now I’m here. That’s all that matters.”

“Yeah but you _died_. We had the entire funeral for you, with the coffin and the picture of you surrounded by flowers and all your friends and family weeping. I went ahead and did the whole rending-of-garments thing, and screamed at the sky to take me instead. And I guess the sky enjoyed scoping out my hot bod, because they spat you back out and now here you are. Dead boyfriend. My point is, it’s kinda hard not to think about this entire situation.”

“Well, stop.” He pulled you down on top of him and kissed the end of you nose. “Just stop thinking. For me.”

And it was hard, but eventually yeah you managed to stop thinking and just roll with it. You have to keep rolling along. John has wings now that he could make materialise and dematerialise at will? Cool. You're rolling with it. John gets given orders from some unexplained and unseen higher power to help out certain people and do certain deeds? Very nice. You don't ask questions cos you're too busy rolling. John turns invisible when he needs to? Rolling. John has meet-ups in coffee houses with other angels cos apparently these guys are wandering around all over the place? You're fucking rolling.

And pretty soon things became pretty easy. You don’t have to date or flirt with people to try and find someone else to fill the void in your life - you have a boyfriend who is literally an angel waiting back in your dorm. You don’t have to worry about dying or get too existential - your boyfriend who is literally goddamn angel is proof of there being something after death. You don't even have to set an alarm clock for lectures because your boyfriend who is _literally a_ _motherfucking angel_ and doesn’t need to sleep will always wake you up in time for class.

So what if you can’t take John out on dates? So what if you can’t tell your friends about all the cute things your boyfriend does? So what if things are really goddamn complicated and part of you still thinks that you’re losing it and all of this is in your head? You’re… You’re _happy_.

Yeah. You’re happy. It makes a nice change from the three months of abject misery and depression that you slogged through after John’s death.

There are still some things that you don't like, of course. Chief amongst them is John’s schedule which is erratic and strict. If John receives a message from the powers that be telling him that he needs to be on the other side of town in five minutes, there’s no time for explanations. Doesn’t matter if he’s balls deep in you, he just has to tell you “Sorry babe, gotta go” and fly out the window. Then you have to clean up and put on a movie or something to wait for him to come back. Sometimes he’s back in a few hours and you can pick right back up where you left off, but more often than not he’s gone longer. And there’s nothing you can do about it. You’ve just got to suck it up and hope he’s alright.

And of course, he always _is_. He always comes back within a few days, very happy and full of storeis to tell you about whatever he’s been up to, and you’re bursting with all the things you’ve been wanting to tell _him_ and you curl up in blankets and rap about it for ages. That’s how it always goes.

Then, about six months after John came back, he’s gone for two weeks.

You get antsy after the first five days. John has no way of contacting you when he’s off on one of his jobs, so there’s nothing you can do except stew in your own brain juices and concoct elaborate scenarios in your head about what’s happening to him. You have _no_ idea if angels can hurt or if they can die again, but you’re not ruling it out. (If you sit and think logically about this you’d realise that no they probably can't die, but hey the illogical part of your brain is much louder and it also slams pots and pans together and paints pictures of dead John all over the place so you tend to pay more attention to it). You're terrified that one day you’ll be sitting in class when you’d get a call from Rose saying “Hey Dave how are you just calling to let you know your boyfriend died again and we’re all gathering at his corpse to play Despacito if you want to join us.” But of course nobody besides you knows John’s alive so that phonecall will never actually come. You’ll just have to go through the rest of your life alone, never knowing what happened. And that’s kinda terrifying.

And when you get stressed, you tend to get sort of insular and hole up in your room to work on stuff and only communicate via Pesterchum. You spent most of the second week John's away organising all of your mp3 files so they have half-decent names and you’ll be able to find the beat you want in less than a decade. Then you crouch on your desk chair to work on your thesis until about 4am which is when you pass out on Rose’s sofa. You don’t even know how you end up in her room, but you don't question that sorta thing any more. Sometimes you're just in Rose’s room. It'as just a place you are. But each time she asks if you want to go out with her and Jade to some club or whatever, you kindly decline and beat a hasty retreat to your own room after raiding her cupboards to steal her ramen. Not to be rude or anything, but you have to be in when John comes home.

In the last few days John’s away, you just turn your phone off to avoid distractions. You sit at your desk, eyes focussing on the thesis in front of you, fingers tapping anxiously on your keyboard, brain slowly turning into slurry inside your skull.

And finally, it’s eleven o’clock on a Saturday night, and you’re taking a break from your thesis to try writing a bad rap when there’s a polite knock on your window. You jump to you feet so fast that your chair falls over. Your room’s on the third floor of the dorms and there’s absolutely nothing outside your window except for a streetlamp. The knocks can only mean one thing: John’s back.

You wrench open the window and feel _something_ whisper past your right shoulder. When you turn round, there’s your boyfriend standing in the middle of the room looking slightly dishevelled and very tired.

“Where have you _been_?” you yell as you step forward to pull John into a tight hug.

John hugs you back, resting his face on your shoulder. His fingers grip the back of your shirt. “M’sorry. Karkat ran away from school.”

“Oh…”

Karkat is one of the humans John had been sent to keep an eye on. Apparently the guy’s destined for something _really_ great. Like, some big world-changing shit is going to happen around him, but life has chosen to fuck him over in the meantime. From what you’ve picked up, Karkat’s mother died a tad earlier than the great Cosmic Plan had intended and everything has just spiralled out of control from there. John’s always very vague about the Cosmic Plan but apparently there’s an endpoint for humanity and an overarching set of paths which the human race needs to follow in order to reach that end. Angels on earth act as assistants nudging people in the right direction, but sometimes there are kinks that just can’t be gotten rid of. Like Karkat’s mother dying and leaving his father to raise him and his brother. And like Karkat’s father being an overall good man with no ability for childrearing and a habit of staying out too late and working too hard and leaving Karkat to be looked after by his brother who’s only about two years older than him.

When John was roped in by the powers that be to watch over Karkat, he’d been sent to a boarding school. He was having… _Problems_ there. Mostly because Karkat isn’t the kind of kid that suits someone else’s discipline and timetable, and he has a habit of biting off someone’s head if he thinks they’re insulting him. John tries to be a helpful hand on Karkat's shoulder guiding him, but he can only do so much. Apparently the headmaster, Scratch, and said the wrong thing and tried to give Karakt detention and the guy had run. He’d been spending the past few days wandering around the city and catching sleep wherever he could. John had stuck close to him, invisible and incorporeal. He’d whispered to Karkat suggesting he go home to his father where it was safe. He’d pulled him back when he was about to step out in front of a car. He’d kept him warm as he slept on park benches. And he’d turned him down different streets to avoid danger. Until eventually, Karkat was cold enough and miserable enough to give up and go home.

“And his dad was so happy, he was crying into Karkat’s shoulder and apologising and saying he wouldn’t need to go back to the school if it wasn’t working out. He said he’d stop working so much and spend more time at home with him and Kankri. I don’t know if he was _serious_ , but it made Karkat happy. Then I stayed with him long enough to make sure he was okay and asleep and I came back here.” John finishes the second half of the story from the bathtub, his head peeking out from the mound of orange-scented bubbles. You’re kneeling besides the tub watching him, your face resting on one hand.

“Dave?”

“Mm?”

John sinks down a little into the bubbles. “I’m hungry. Can I get some chips or something?”

You dunk him under the water. “You only want me for my food, don’t you?”

“Yes,” John says when he resurfaces. He shakes his head and splatters you with water. “Bring me cool ranch Doritos, mortal!”

John doesn’t actually need to eat or sleep or bathe anymore. Apparently he’s supported by a distant star. His heart pumps with the rhythm of gravity waves. His bones are held together by the gravity of an entire solar system. His lungs are supported by carbon fusion. Or something. Honestly you hadn’t really understood the explanation and John admitted he didn’t either, and your surreptitious questions to Jade about what the fuck an O-star is just left you more confused. Angel stuff is hard. _Space_ is hard! All you know is that John doesn’t need to do any normal human things, but he likes them. He likes sleeping in the same bed as you, and having baths, and eating snack food. Like the cool ranch Doritos you always keep on hand for him.

You wander out into the kitchen to get the chips and a glass of water for yourself. Your head’s aching a little from all the stress and lack of sleep of that week. You pop a couple headache pills into your mouth and swallow them dry, but before you can drink anything to wash them down there’s a knock on your door.

You open it to find Jade smiling down at you. Jade Harley, resident physics genius and part-time furry had slotted neatly into your friendship group at the start of the year when she’d sat in on one of your English lectures. She’s one of those people who actually enjoys going to lectures from other courses, something she and Rose have in common.

You raise one eyebrow. “Hey, Jade. Sup?”

“Hi, Dave! Rose and I are playing a drinking game in her room, she sent me to get you to come join,” she said brightly. “We found a bunch of old B-movies, and we’ve put a fake moustache on the TV screen. You have to drink each time the moustache lines up with someone’s face! It should be really fun, you should come.”

You are sorely tempted, and any other night you would be pulling on your hoodie to follow her out your dorm to the wonderful bounty of alcohol and shitty movies. But you can’t. “Sorry Jade, you have unfortunately found me when I am deep in the throes of academia. I’m just all tied up all sensual like with a collection of journals and academic papers, just getting really hot and heavy with my degree. Gonna pop out a baby thesis any day now.”

Jade raised her eyebrows. “Really, Dave? You’re studying?”

“I study sometimes.”

“Well okay, I’m glad you’re studying. But you should take a break!”

“No, I really shouldn’t. If I’m going to be crushed to death by debt, I should probably write a few papers before I go.”

“But we haven’t seen you in _ages_. Rose is lonely.”

“Yeah, Rose is many things but lonely is definitely not one of them.” You glance at the door to the bathroom then back at Jade. “Look, I just can’t tonight. But save the movies and the moustaches and I’ll hit you up later.”

Jade tilts her head and narrow her eyes behind her thick glasses. “Are you okay, Dave? You look very _smiley_ for some reason.”

“Do I?” You press a hand to your face and sure enough your mouth is curled up into a slight smile. Shit, your cool-guy facade is slipping! Deflect! Deflect! “I guess I’m just excited about my thesis.”

Unsurprisingly, Jade doesn’t buy that. She folds her arms over her chest and leans forward to peer into her reflection in your shades. Her green eyes pierce right through you. “ _Really_?”

“Yeah.”

“The great cool guy, Dave Strider, is so excited about his _thesis_ that he’s not going to come join us for a shitty movie and drinking night? Come on, you normally complain about how everyone in your class is an idiot and you're unappreciated.” She pouts. “What's different today?”

“No. Stop that. Don’t you use your science brain to figure out my shit, Jade. Don’t go dissecting me, I swear I-“

“Oh, dammit!”

You freeze mid-sentence. That expletive was John dropping something in the bathroom, and is immediately followed by a slosh of water and the sound of footsteps on tile. You open and close your mouth. “I can explain.”

Jade’s face is spreading into a grin. “Dave… Do you have a _date_?”

“Yes. No. Uh. Fuck.”

But Jade is laughing and stepping away, holding up her hand sin surrender. “You should have just said you had someone round, Dave. I’d understand.”

“Uh…”

She winks. “Me and Rose’ll probably be watching movies all night, you should bring him down to join us when you’re finished.” Then she turns and starts walking away, calling over her shoulder, “Have fun!”

You slam the door and lock it. “Dammit!”

There’s the sound of water going down the drain and John’s face peeks round the bathroom door. “You were taking too long,” he says with a grin. “So I sped things up.”

“Mr Egbert,” you say in a low voice, “I’m sorry to tell you, that you are an incorrigible asshole.”

“Mmhm.” John steps into the room, wrapped in a towel. “But only to you.”

You shove the Doritos into his chest. “Yes, the reports have come back from the hospital. The tests have confirmed it: you are pure asshole. All non-asshole parts of you died with your mortal body.”

John laughs. “I love you.”

“No, that died with your mortal body too.”

He wraps his arms around your body. “Dave. I love you.”

“You’re getting my shirt wet.”

“Of course I am, I’m an asshole.” He puckers his lips for you to kiss. You feed him a Dorito instead.

“Okay, but you realise they’re going to start asking who my date was, right? They’re both going to want a pop-up book describing what happened.” You sit on the bed with his feet tucked under your hips, shuddering at the thought of the two girls probing you to find out everything about your new man-candy. “What am I going to tell them? ‘No I don’t have a date, that’s just John who’s come back as an angel and likes to eat all my chips?’”

“Tell them I’m mutually agreed upon one-night-stand and you’ll never see me again.” John leans against your side, getting your shirt even wetter. “You can tell them… Tell them my name is Jake.”

“I’m not using your angel buddies as fake names.”

“Okay. Make up a name, then.” He crunches a couple more Doritos. “Jake’s going to be helping out with Karkat now, by the way.”

“Yeah?” You wrap an arm around John’s waist and pull him closer. Press a quick kiss to his ear. “What’s he gonna be doing?”

“He’s going to take the form of a new neighbour. Then he can act as physical mentor to Karkat and help him in ways I can't.”

“You can do that? Take forms?”

“Yeah, apparently. I’m still trying to figure it out.”

“Hm.” Your thumb rubs circles in John’s skin. “I’m glad you’re back. I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

“Yeah?” You tug John by the hip, pulling him into your lap and surreptitiously pushing the Doritos off of the bed. “How much?”

“A lot.”

He grins and kisses you on the mouth, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pushing you back onto the bed. He plucks your shades from your face and places them on the bedside table. Your hands run up John’s sides to his shoulders. Your mouth opens to taste him. He gasps. Then yelps when you grip his shoulders.

“Fuck,” you say, pulling back. “Are you okay?”

John props himself up on his hands, his face a little pinched. “Yes, I’m fine. I just… I’ve been flying for two weeks. I’m a bit sore.”

“Ah.” You drop your hands to John’s waist. “Well, I can fix that. Lie down.”

“No Dave, you don’t have to. You _always_ do that, it’s fine. I’ll just-“

“John. Shut the fuck up and lie your stupid angel body down on my bed.”

John grumbles, but does as he’s told. Clutching a pillow to his face, he lies face-down on top of the covers and shifts around a little to get comfortable. You straddle him, sitting down by his hips.

“You want oil?”

John nods. “I’m super sensitive today.”

You reach over him to the drawer in your bedside table and pull out a bottle of massage oil. It’s the good expensive stuff, all smooth and nice scented. Only the best for _your_ dead boyfriend. You pour a little onto the small of John’s back, making him gasp. Then the gasp turns into a satisfied hum when you begin gently massaging his back.

You have to move very carefully. It starts with slow rubs up the side of John’s waist, inching closer and closer up to his shoulder blades. The palms of your hands only _just_ touch his skin at first. The oil slips between your fingers and coats your hands as you massage upwards in slow circles. Then you gently move your fingertips over John’s shoulders, feeling for any tension and knots. John sighs contentedly. You move over his shoulders softly, then get more firm after he warms up.

“Mm… A bit lower,” John instructs you. “To the left. Yeah.” He buries his face deeper into the pillow.

Your thumb works in circles, picking out all the tiny knots and difficult muscles. John never got massages like this when he was alive, but his new wings put a strain on his back so of course you volunteered to help out. Apparently it could take up to a year for a new angel to get used to the stupid things. (Look, you’ve no idea how this entire thing works but if it means you get to run your hands all over John’s body you’re not going to complain).

“Wanna materialise them?” you ask, your hands slowing to a stop on John’s shoulders. “I think you’re all warmed up here.”

“Mmmmmokay.”

John’s body shudders and he gives a long, low breath. Then his wings flicker into existence on that plane.

You’ve seen them plenty of times before, but each time they materialise you end up staring at them with your mouth hanging open like a chump. What can you say? Shit’s mesmerising. They look like they’re made of feathers and bones like any normal wing, but at the same time they shimmer and seem to flow in the air like water. John’s explained that his wings exist on more dimensions than you can view with puny human eyes and that they contain all the light and energy of the star that's sustaining him. They glow a bright blue, bathing your entire room in light, and if you stare at the closest wing you can just make out a thousand distant galaxies stretching away into the cosmos. His wings pulse blue and white and purple. When he opens his eyes and blinks up from the pillow, John’s eyes glow a brighter blue than normal.

His wings are so incredibly beautiful. And so sensitive to the touch. You press your fingertips to where the wings meet John’s shoulders and he hisses. But then he sighs when you start massaging him again. You work in gentle circles, stroking the muscle and stardust to encourage something like blood flow into the wing. And at a nod from John, you move your hand up the bone of the wing.

The stupid things are gigantic. When folded, they brushed along the floor. When stretched out, each wing is twice as long as you are tall. And because they’re only partially on the mortal plane, you can push your entire hand through them if you push hard enough. Your fingers breathed gently over the feathers and bone, rubbing in gentle circles. You move up the bone and along the joints and curves, smoothing down feathers as you go. Then back down to the sensitive area where wing met flesh.

“How’re you feeling?” You press your thumb to the curve of John’s wing and rub in slow circles.

John nod. “S’good. Keep going.”

“Yeah?” You press your thumb slightly harder and hear John whine. “That better?”

“Mmhm!”

“What about this?” You cup your hands around the bones of John’s wing and slowly stroke them.

“Ahh! Y- yes.”

“And this?” You lower your head and plant a kiss at the base of John’s wing.

“Sh- Dave?”

“Mmhm?” You move your mouth away. “That feeling alright?”

John’s voice is a squeak. “Yes.”

“Mm.” Keeping one hand on John’s wing, you move your other hand lower. Down John’s back to the edge of his towel. Then your hand slips underneath the fabric and you fondly pat your boyfriend’s ass. “Are you hard?”

An even tinier squeak. “Shut up.”

“Well damn, I was gong to help you out with that but if you’re going to be rude…”

John laughs and kicks out at you with a foot. “Help out, then.”

Sure, anything for a friend. You hook your hands under John’s hips and pull him up so he’s on his knees with his chest still on the mattress. The towel comes loose and drops down John’s knees, revealing that yes he really _is_ hard. Hot damn. You spread John’s legs a little and reach round to gently stroke his dick. When he whimpers, you bite your lip a little to keep from grinning like a moron. His face is still buried in your pillow. His wings flicker briefly out of existence.

“No no, keep them here,” you tell him. You press a hand to John’s wing and run your fingers down the feathers, making him shudder and the feathers glow a deep purple.

“What if someone sees?”

You place your hands on John’s hips and rub his skin with your thumbs. “Well, if Spiderman has decided to climb up the multiple floors to peep in my windows then I will have to politely tell him that a hero doesn’t spy on people. And then he’ll get a nice view of me eating out my angel boyfriend.”

“Eating ou- Ng, ah! Dave!”

John groans as you lean down to kiss his tailbone, hands massaging his ass and then moving lower to his thighs. You kiss down your celestial boyfriend’s thigh to just above his knee. John whines and spreads his legs more, angling his hips back and upwards. You smile and nip at his skin. Then your mouth moves upwards again, sucking and licking as you go until you reach John’s plush rump and sunk your teeth in. He yelps and his legs quiver. You give his thigh a light smack and sit up to rest your chin on his hip.

“Doing alright there, sport?”

John looks over his shoulder. His cheeks are flushed and glowing blue and there’s sweat on his cheeks. His large wings twitch. “I’m good. Dave… Come on…”

You grope John’s ass with both hands. “What?”

“Y- _Dave_ …”

You smile a little. “What?”

“If- If you’re going to eat me out then just _do_ it!” John’s toes curl against the sheets and he pushes his hips backwards. “Please!”

Ah, the magic word! Your fingers dig into John’s ass and you run your tongue over his faintly-glowing skin.

At first glance, John looks the exact same as when he was alive except with a tint of blue, but when you pay attention you start to see all the tiny differences that mark him as an angel (asides from the great big fuck-off wings, of course). As well as John’s skin always having that light glow, his hair is also tinted a slight blue from the star that’s sustaining him. The heartbeat in his ribs was replaced with a low thrumming sound that lulls you to sleep when you press your head on his chest. His skin tastes of electricity and radio waves and when you kiss him you feel a slight tingling on your tongue. But despite all the changes and the planets swirling in John’s intestines, he’s still the boy you fell in love with. And he still squeaks like a chipmunk when the flat of your tongue runs over his entrance.

You lick and suck at John, running your tongue around the outside of his entrance and getting a tingle of electricity on you lips. Then you pull back and blow gently on the skin until John tells you to get a move on. When John’s squeaks turn to swears, you decide to stop teasing him and slowly push your tongue inside of him. Your nails dig into John’s ass and pull his cheeks apart to get better access. John groans into the pillow and tilts his hips up to try and get you to go deeper. You probe your tongue in as far as you can go, then pull back to lick around the entrance.

You close your eyes and take your time, moving your mouth down over John’s taint and to his balls. When you suck one of them into your mouth you hear John groaning. The sound has your own dick twitching in your jeans.

You move higher, kissing John’s skin as you go. “I think,” you whisper into his skin, “I must have done something really amazing in a past life. To have you.”

“What?” John looks over his shoulder again with a frown.

You stare at him for a moment. Then you bury you face in John’s ass, licking and sucking and probing forwards with you tongue until John’s a whining mess grabbing at the pillow and digging his toes into the sheets. You keep one hand on John’s ass, but move the other up his back to his wing. With a sigh, you cup your hand around the base of his wing and rub him gently.

“Ah! Dave!” John cries out and bucks his hips. “Y- Yes!”

You pull back to kiss your way up John’s spine to the back of his neck. Both hands come up to stroke up and down his wings. Your hips grind against John. And your heavy breaths ruffle John’s hair as you go to whisper in his ear. “Did you miss me when you were working?”

“Yes,” John whimpers. He turns his face to try and kiss you, but you pull back. “I missed you so much.”

“How much?” You drag your fingers around John’s wings and make him whine.

“Haaa! I- Ah, I always thought of you! Whenever I had time, I thought of you.”

“What did you think about?”

“About kissing you and- Ha! Haaa! About you f- fucking me. Oh God, Dave _come on_!”

“What do you want? I need some direction here, John.” You lower your head to lick up John’s wing.

“Shit! Ah! Hn, Dave please! I want you to fuck me! Oh, _God_.” His hand leaves the pillow and grabs at your bedside drawer, scrabbling around inside it before pulling out a small pink bottle of lube. He gives you an imploring look. “I need you. I’ve been thinking about you for two weeks and- Ah! And I’ve not been able to see you. Please. I need you to fuck me.”

With a groan at the back of his throat, you swoop down and press your lips to John’s. He eagerly opens his mouth and you feel electricity on your tongue before you go to suck on his lower lip because damn you love John’s lips. John’s hand came up grab to grab your hair and pull you closer. His wings twitch. Your hips grind against John’s ass.

“Ah!” You pulled back with a gasp. You stared down at John who stares back all red-faced and open-mouthed. “God… I love you so much.”

John raises his eyebrows. “Wow. Gay.”

You kiss him again, softer this time. You relish in your boyfriend and his taste and his smell and the electricity on his skin and… Oh fuck you’re so utterly in love with him. The boy you grew up with and who you first kissed when you was twelve. The boy who died and came back with wings and blue-tinted skin. The boy who has galaxies in his throat and asteroids in his eyes. You love him so much.

You lean over John’s head to reach into the drawer again, searching for something. What you pull out is a long, purple vibrator and remote. John’s eyes widen.

“Dave,” he says, kicking out with his feet. “Dave, I want _you_.” But he licks his lips and watches the vibrator hungrily.

“You’ll get me. But I’ve spent so long thinking about you and all the things I want to do to you. I have _ideas_.”

You place the vibrator on the sheets by your knees and undo the top of lube. You pour some of it over your fingers until they’re liberally coated. John tilts his hips up in readiness and buries his face back in the pillow.

Because he’s recently been eaten out, John’s ass is able to take your first finger like a champ. You push it all the way inside of him and curl it to brush against John’s prostate. Then you pull it out again. John wiggles impatiently. When you push back in with two fingers, John hums. He stretches his wings upwards, flicking the end feathers. You flutter your fingers inside of John and stretch him open. Lube rolls down the back of your hand and dribbles onto the sheets.

When John grows impatient, you add a third finger. And then a fourth. Soon he’s groaning and arching his back so that his hips are higher and pushing onto your hand. Your spare hand moves round to John’s stomach and up to his chest. When your fingers brush over John’s nipples it earns you a few squeaks.

“Dave,” he moans.

“Yeah?”

“St- Ah! Stop teasing me.”

“You want me that badly? I don’t blame you, I’m hot stuff.”

“You’re a jerk with a nice dick,” John says. “Now come _on_.”

You pull you fingers out of him and John huffs until you start to push in the vibrator. This one’s one of his favourites: long with multiple ridges, starting smaller at the tip then flowing out into a large flared base, with a curve that presses _right_ against his prostate. John’s mouth falls open as you push it further and further in. His head rolls to the side and his eyes slide closed and drool rolls down his chin. His wings twitch and quiver.

“Ah, fuck.” John moans when the flared base hits his skin and he slumps back onto the bed. “Turn it on.”

“Hmm, no. Not yet.”

“Dave!”

You rub the back of John’s neck and get to your feet. John turns his head to watch you move round to the head of the bed. At this point you’re somehow still fully dressed in your shirt and jeans, accessorised with the wonderful tent your dick is currently pitching. At least John seems to appreciate it, judging by how his luminous eyes flick from your crotch to your face.

“So here’s what I’m thinking,” you say, leaning down and poking John’s cheek. “I reckon maybe you should apologise to me for being away for so long and making me worry.”

John wiggles his hips a little. “I should, huh?”

“Yeah, you should.” You run your hand down John’s face to his neck and down his arm to his hand. Then you take John by the fingers and move his hand to your own dick. “If you can get me off, and show that you’re sorry for leaving me alone for so long, I’ll return the favour.”

“You’re the worst.”

“And you’re undoing my belt.”

“Of course I am, I’m the worst too.”

John moves up onto his elbows and starts stroking you through the fabric of your jeans. Your hips jerk forward and you rip your own shirt off before reaching down to take off your jeans. Fuck the teasing bullshit, you just kind of want to get your dick sucked just then. John helps, tugging down the waistband of your jeans along with your underwear. And when they’re still around your ankles, John leans in and gently licks up your entire length.

“Shit! Hang on.” You push him away and climb up onto the bed, propping yourself up by the wall with a pillow at his back and John between your knees. One hand is on the vibrator remote. The other is stroking John’s shoulder and then up his wing. “Okay. _Now_ you can start apologising.”

When you kiss, John’s lips made yours tingle with electricity and stars, and when he kisses up your dick it’s a fucking religious experience and you have to bite your lip to keep from yelling. It doesn’t help that John’s mouth has always been made for sucking cock. His lips are plump enough and soft and he looks so _beautiful_ sucking on your dick. And in all the years you’ve been having sex, he’s perfected his technique.

It starts with a few small kisses and then slow licks from the base of your cock up to the top. He always teases you until your legs are shaking and your hips jerk forward. And then he just sucks very lightly on the head of your cock before pulling off and licking again. He circles the head with his tongue and glances up at your face. Then pulls back to grin. For an angel, he’s capable of being all sorts of evil. If he wasn’t already dead, you’d kill him.

“Is that good?”

Your hand rubs up and down John’s wing. “Yeah.” Your hips jerked forward but John holds you down and kisses your thigh. “Yeah man, I think you deserve some reward.”

You grip John’s wing harder and turn on the vibrator to its lowest setting. John tenses and swears. He mouths up your dick again, licking and sucking all the way. Then it’s your turn to swear when he wraps his hand around your dick and slowly starts bobbing his head up and down on your length.

With a curse, you hunch forward and grab John’s wings with both hands. The vibrator’s remote digs into the feathers against the galaxies, but John doesn’t seem to care. His wings open slightly and press up into yours hands.

The vibrator gets turned up a few notches and John moans. He moves his head up and down faster, his cheeks hollowing and sucking. Then he pulls off and circles your head with his tongue as he works the length with his hands. Your hips jerk upwards and you massage John’s wings. Your hands move up and down, fingers rubbing circles that make John whine.

“John,” you groan. “Keep doing that.”

“Mmhm.” John sucks your cock into his mouth and moves down until his nose is pressed against your stomach. Then he pulls off slowly, his tongue moving in a smooth zigzag that has you throwing your head back in a long cry.

Shit! You flick the vibrator to high and watch John’s hips begin to thrust forward. His movements become sloppy on your dick and he moans louder than ever. Your fingers tangle in John’s hair and push him down further.

“Just keep going,” you gasp. “Shit! I’m close.”

John whines and nods as best he can. He sucks and licks and one finger massages your taint. You go back to stroking John’s wings, making them twitch and shudder. His legs shake and his toes dig into the sheets. The muscles on your own stomach tense. Then, with a strangled cry, your hips are thrusting up and you’re coming right down John’s throat.

John swallows with a moan and pulls his head off of you. His lips are swollen and covered in cum that’s dripping over his chin. He blinks up at you, his mouth hanging open. The vibrator’s still in his ass and his hips twitch. You tug him upwards and into your lap, kissing his mouth and tasting yourself in amongst all the galaxies on his tongue. One hand goes around John’s back to his wing, the other goes to his dick to stroke him quickly. John writhes in your touch and thrusts his hips upwards.

“Y- Dave,” he murmurs in between kisses.

“Come on, John.” Your fingers grip tighter and you rub your thumb just below his head. The hand on John’s wing presses into his feathers.

Then John’s back is arching and he’s biting his lip as he comes into your hand with a long groan. You stroke him through his orgasm, until John’s shuddering and slumping forward into your shoulder. His wings flicker and disappear from that plane of existence.

Then it’s just you holding the limp body of your dead boyfriend who still has a vibrator in his ass.

“Ah, I missed you,” you said, kissing John’s neck. You turn off the vibrator.

“Mm.” John nods, then reaches back to pull the vibrator out and drop it onto the floor. “I missed you, too. I don’t want to be away from you for so long. It’s just… _Karkat_ …”

“Yeah. Well, can’t be helped I guess. I don’t think you even _have_ a supervisor you can talk to about a more regular schedule.” You rub John’s back and kiss his shoulder. “I think I need a bath now, though. Join me?”

John nods and gets shakily to his feet. Lube dribbles down one of his legs as he walks towards the bathroom. He makes an expression of disgust and swipes at it with one hand. Apparently even angels can be sort of gross sometimes.

You lean back on you bed for a moment and clean up the vibrator you’d used. Your eyes flick to the second drawer in your nightstand. Then up at the bathroom where John’s busy refilling the tub and whistling to himself. You pull open the second drawer and looked in at the small present you’d stashed there earlier. Something for when John came back. Because you always knew John would come back.

You’re really glad John came back.

By the end of that first week, you’d been freaking out and panicking just a tad. What if John had died somehow? What if the powers that be had moved him across the world and wouldn’t let him come back home to you? What if he was told his work was done and he could finally be at peace, so long Egbert here's your robe and harp now go chill in the clouds forever? Your brain had spun with possibilities and what-ifs and you’d eventually found yourself in some tiny shop in the high street on the way back from class. And you’d bought a phone.

Something small and cheap, just to tuck into John’s pocket when he left next time. You don’t know if that's _allowed_ but fuck whatever rules dictated how angels worked.

You don’t want to be apart from John. You’ve already lost him once, fuck losing him again. Later, when you’re cuddling your dead boyfriend in bed you’re planning on giving John the phone and telling him to call you if he’s going to be gone for long on another job. Just to, like, check in whenever he can. Because if you’re going to have another two weeks like these last ones you were going to die or get an ulcer or sleep with a lecturer or something else terrible.

John pokes his head out of the bathroom. “You going to sit there all night?”

“Yeah yeah.” You shut the drawer and get to your feet. “I’m coming.”

And you take your boyfriend’s hand and kiss his cheek and taste a million stars on your tongue.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments/feedback are very appreciated! And if you want to request fic or just say hi, ~~[feel free to come hit me up on Tumblr](http://iamalsohere.tumblr.com/)~~ (EDIT: TUMBLR NUKED ME, BECAUSE IT SUCKS! FIND ME ON TWITTER) or [on my Twitter :)](https://twitter.com/CornyBunBun)


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